


Returning the Favor

by Magefeathers



Series: Your Sickening Desire [2]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: 707 Route Bad Ending, 707 Whump, Angst, Emetophobia, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, POV Second Person, Panic Attacks, Present Tense, Reader-Insert, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 03:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14535987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magefeathers/pseuds/Magefeathers
Summary: He wasn’t able to save you in time. He had taken too long to find the hacker, and the hacker had gotten to you. One shaking hand clutches at his chest. His lungs feel like they’re on fire, burning to get enough oxygen to his brain through shallow breaths. Saeran has you tied up in some dark room, possibly hundreds of kilometers away, definitely using you for his own sickening desires, and all Seven can manage to do is hyperventilate.Despite the panic coursing through his veins, Seven returns to his search with renewed vigor. He doesn’t want to believe it. He doesn’t want to believe that Saeran is capable of using you in such a way any more than he wants to believe what the latest photo had made abundantly clear - that you were enjoying it.





	Returning the Favor

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are! Seven's point of view of the events of the first installment. The series title comes from the song BITE by Troye Sivan, which is one of the top songs that I associate with Saeran.
> 
> As with the last fic, please make sure you read the tags before starting the fic. Seven has some panic reactions that might be uncomfortable or triggering to read. Your safety and mental health are your own responsibility! Take care of yourselves!
> 
>  
> 
> _"I can be the subject of your dreams / Your sickening desire"_

Anxious, trembling fingers fly over the keyboard, searching desperately for the source of the photos being sent. Seven had received two so far - photos of you, bound, disheveled, and in the second one, with fearful eyes and a hand around your throat.

The two had arrived barely two minutes apart, but it’s been over five minutes since the second one was received, and Seven’s panic level is rising by the moment. Half of him prays for another photo to appear on his screen, prove to him that you are still safe, while the other half of him fears what he might see next. His fingers slip over keys, mucking up lines of code, and he slams his balled fists against the floor on either side of his laptop as he swears.

He runs his fingers through his hair, gripping the red locks tightly and pulling - a punishment. “Focus, focus,” he scolds himself, hitting the heels of his palms against his head. He reminds himself of Jumin’s words from that morning - _if you can’t focus, you can’t help anyone._ “You can’t save her if you’re panicking. You’re no good to anyone if you’re panicking.”

Letting go of his hair, Seven takes a few deep breaths, staring down at his computer screen with dismay. This hacker is good. _‘Saeran,’_ he reminds himself. _‘Saeran’s good.’_ The thought nauseates him. He still doesn’t want to believe that the villain who had caused all this trouble, who had hacked into the RFA messenger app, broken into Rika’s apartment, and kidnapped their newest member, had been his own flesh and blood all along. He had seen Saeran with his own eyes, but somehow, it still doesn’t feel real. With one last steadying breath, Seven laces his fingers together, cracks his knuckles, and sets back to work on tracking the IP address the photos are being sent from.

Just then, a new photo forces its way onto his screen. Seven’s breath catches in his throat.

The first thing he notices about the photo is that you’re smiling - a wide, genuine smile, the likes of which he had yet to see you wear. Even your eyes were bright, sparkling.

The second thing he notices is that your blouse has been undone. Two buttons have been popped open, exposing your bra and cleavage to his eyes.

Seven’s brow furrows. His confused eyes flick between your exposed bust, your bright smile, and your wrists, still bound above your head, trying to reconcile the dissonant, contradicting portions of the photo. Before he can fully wrap his mind around the picture, another is popping up over top of it. In this one, your face is flushed, half-hidden against the flesh of your upper arm. Your back is arched, pushing your chest out so that your breasts are more visible. Your knees are bent, feet on the ground, thighs falling open - an utterly immodest pose considering the length of your skirt. Seven’s stomach drops when he notices the reddened marks all along the length of your neck. 

Seven’s throat feels as though it’s shrinking in on itself. He tugs at his collar, trying to relieve some of the imagined constriction, but the gesture proves futile. He knows this is his fault. If he had been able to find the hacker’s location before Saeran had come for you, you would be safe right now. You would be locked up tight in Rika’s apartment, secure as could be, and Seven would have been able to confront Saeran on his own. Maybe, if he had met with Saeran one on one, with his mind at ease knowing you were safe, maybe then he would have been able to talk some sense into Saeran.

He wasn’t able to save you in time. He had taken too long to find the hacker, and the hacker had gotten to you. One shaking hand clutches at his chest. His lungs feel like they’re on fire, burning to get enough oxygen to his brain through shallow breaths. Saeran has you tied up in some dark room, possibly hundreds of kilometers away, definitely using you for his own sickening desires, and all Seven can manage to do is hyperventilate.

Despite the panic coursing through his veins, Seven returns to his search with renewed vigor. He doesn’t want to believe it. He doesn’t want to believe that Saeran is capable of using you in such a way any more than he wants to believe what the latest photo had made abundantly clear - that you were enjoying it.

Suddenly, Seven’s keyboard stops responding. He retypes the last command he had tried to input, but nothing new appears on his screen. Confused, unsettled, Seven attempts a new command. Again, the words don’t appear on the screen. He curses, reaches for the power button to hard reboot the system, but the screen flickers to black before he can press it. He hesitates, and after a moment the display lights back up, greeting Seven with a video feed.

His heart freezes in his chest. Rika’s apartment is eerily silent, save for the white noise coming from the laptop’s speakers. All that’s visible in the shot is the blurry form of someone standing too close to the camera. Seven recognizes the clothes that Saeran had been wearing when he’d come to the apartment.

 _“Yes.”_ The word, spoken in Saeran’s voice, startles Seven. Saeran turns away from the camera, moving slightly to the side, and then Seven can see you in the background - still bound, watching Saeran as he approaches you. _“My name is Saeran. I suppose it is only fair that you know it…”_ Saeran leans over you, a hand cupping one of your breasts, and you arch up into his touch. Seven shakes his head, denying the reality he sees unfolding before him. _“...considering you’re going to be screaming it soon.”_

Seven covers his mouth with one hand, nausea turning in his stomach as Saeran’s mouth covers yours in a fierce kiss. You’re far enough away from the camera that Seven can’t see many details in the darkness of the room, but he can tell that you’re not resisting. He hears you moan into the kiss, sees Saeran’s fingers working their way down the rest of the buttons on your blouse. When Saeran’s hands move back to your breasts, Seven closes his eyes against the sight.

“No, no, no,” Seven murmurs to himself, bringing his hands up to dig the heels of his palms into his eyes, knocking his glasses askew. He listens to the sounds of your kisses, wondering how this had happened. Why were you letting Saeran touch you like this? He had kidnapped you! And Seven had thought… He shakes his head, chasing the thought away. It had been years since he’d seen Saeran, so it was slightly more understandable that his behavior was so… incomprehensible. Clearly something had happened to Saeran in those years that had twisted him in such a way, but you? It was but half a day ago that Seven had been joking with you in the chatroom. Seven had seen you mere hours ago, had seen the fear in your eyes when Saeran wrapped his arm around your neck and threatened you harm, just for the sake of hurting _him._

 _“Don’t worry, princess, you won’t be needing your hands for this.”_ Saeran’s voice comes through the speakers again, and Seven presses down harder on his closed eyes until he sees stars. _“I’ll make sure my hands give you all the pleasure you need.”_ Seven swallows down the bile rising in his throat. What had happened to you in such a short amount of time to push you willingly into your kidnapper’s arms? Seven hears you cry out and his eyes flash open, hands quickly righting his glasses.

What he sees is Saeran tweaking your now-exposed nipples as his lips move from your mouth, to your jaw, to your neck, and he is almost as relieved that your cry was one of pleasure rather than pain as he is disgusted that this is the context in which he is seeing your bare chest. He averts his eyes, staring down at his keyboard as the sounds of Saeran licking and sucking at your breasts while you moan wantonly flood his ears. Desperate to remove himself from this voyeuristic trap and get back to his search, Seven’s fingers fly to his keyboard, keying in command after command in an attempt to remove the video feed from his screen. When that doesn’t work he shakes his mouse violently, eyes flicking back to the screen to search for the cursor’s movement, but all he sees is the video. Nothing will close it. Nothing will call up another program over top of it. His laptop has effectively been rendered into a mini television, good only for broadcasting the lewd sights and sounds of his own brother violating the first girl he’d ever felt anything for.

Seven rests his elbows on his knees, dropping his face into his palms, defeated. He had denied to everyone else in the RFA, and even to you, that he’d had feelings for you; now, as he listens to you moaning beneath the hands and mouth of his long lost brother, it becomes so easy to tell the truth. All he had wanted was for you to be safe, for you to stay far away from his dark and dangerous lifestyle, so that you didn’t end up getting hurt. Hurt because of him. Kidnapped because of him. _Raped. Because of him._

Seven bolts to his feet. He barely manages to get his head into the trash bin before he’s heaving - though nothing comes up but bile. He can’t remember the last time he’d eaten, he’d been too focused on trying to catch the hacker… and look where his dedication had gotten him.

He hangs his head over the bin, one hand bracing the wall in front of him, one hand holding his glasses in place as he coughs up the rest of the bile in his throat, and the tears finally fall from his eyes, because now he realizes exactly why you’re allowing this to happen. He had pushed you right into his brother’s arms. You had given him your love, only wanting his in return, and he had been trying to save you, but he only pushed you away. He’d flipped from being flirtatious with you to telling you not to get attached to him, without giving you any real reason, and it must have hurt you so much that you were willing to take love from a stranger instead. The hand that had been braced against the wall formed a fist and reconnected with the wall in anger, denting the drywall and sending throbbing pain through Seven’s fingers.

 _“Luciel…”_ The growl of his alias brings his attention back to his laptop, sitting on the floor mere feet away. _“Did Luciel ever have you like this?”_

Seven slinks down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor by the garbage bin, listening to the sounds of the video feed despite not being able to see the screen. And then, for the first time since Saeran had taken you away, Seven hears you speak. _“No. When you came for me and he showed up, that was the first time he and I even saw each other.”_ Your voice is so kind, so calm, even in this impossibly traumatic situation, and it brings fresh tears to his eyes. He should have known you were too kind of a soul for him. He never should have even tried to get close to you. He never should have convinced you to join the RFA. He should have just told you to leave the apartment, delete their messenger app, and never think about them again. 

_“Good,”_ Saeran purrs. _“I’m glad that I could steal this experience from him.”_ Another wave of nausea washes over Seven at the blatant reminder that this is all about _him._ Saeran doesn’t even think of what he’s doing as hurting you, taking your innocence from you, taking your free will from you; Saeran is only thinking in terms of what he’s taking from _him_ , and Seven isn’t sure if it makes it better or worse that you are enjoying what Saeran is taking from you. Your bright, kind, optimistic mind probably thinks that Saeran is doing this out of some twisted admiration for you, some warm feeling that Seven is starting to think his brother is no longer capable of experiencing. 

And _Saeran_ , Seven mourns - what could possibly have happened to Saeran in their time apart to turn him into the type of person who would do things like this? What had tainted and twisted the sickly, timid, sweet boy Seven had grown up with into the type of person who would use an innocent young stranger like this?

 _“Good girl.”_ Saeran’s voice comes through the speakers, and although Seven is fearful of what he might see, he forces himself to crawl across the floor and turn his laptop so that he can see the screen once more. What he sees is your skirt rucked up around your waist, panties on the ground behind Saeran, your hips bucking as Saeran’s hands move between your thighs. _“Good,_ good _girl,”_ Saeran compliments you again when you moan for him, and Seven brings a hand up to cover his mouth. _“Already so wet for me…”_ Saeran’s hands move again and then you’re crying out, hips stuttering against his touch, and Seven can see the grin spread across his brother’s features. _“And you make the most wonderful noises.”_

Seven hates that he agrees on that last part. He hates that he has the audacity to enjoy your pleasured sounds despite the fact that they’re being stolen from you. He hates that he wonders what your wetness feels like against his brother’s fingers. He’s grateful that in the position you’re in, he can’t see your most intimate area beneath the shadows cast by your skirt and thighs. He’s sickened by the possibilities of what kind of thoughts might come to his mind if he could see the full view of your legs open for him, the way they’re opened for Saeran.

Saeran allows you to grind yourself against his hand for a short while, and you whine pitifully when he moves his hand away. Seven lets out a relieved breath at the pause in the lewd show, but it’s short lived. Soon Saeran’s hand is back between your legs, and Seven can tell from the movement of his arm and the deliriously pleasured noises spilling from your lips that he must be fucking you with his fingers. 

“Oh, god,” Seven groans, hating himself for continuing to watch, but it’s like a car wreck now - grotesque and sorrowful but fascinating in its wrongness, drawing in the curiosity of those who can’t help but want to see how it ends. Your feet scramble against the floor for purchase as you writhe and moan and Saeran cackles maliciously as you take your pleasure from his fingers and Seven needs to know how this will end. Saeran crowds you back against the wall, hoisting you up so that you’re sitting in his lap as he thrusts his hips into the air between you, his hand never slowing in its thrusting. 

_“Yes, yes,”_ Saeran moans, and Seven can hear the arousal in his voice, and he’s so glad that their voices don’t sound as similar as they did when they were young. He’s already swallowing back his own breathy moans at the sight of you lost in pleasure; if he were to hear his own voice coaxing you on, it would make it too easy to lose himself to the fantasy of you writhing in his lap instead. 

_“Saeran,”_ you gasp, and Seven’s heart feels like it's shattering in his chest. _“Fuck me, Saeran, please!”_ Seven rubs furiously at the tears welling up in his eyes as Saeran catches your lips in another kiss. Saeran’s arm twists and you’re crying out against his lips, your hips stuttering in his lap, and he pulls away from the kiss with a smirk. 

_“Soon, princess,”_ Saeran promises, and Seven shakes his head.

“Please, no,” he begs into the darkness around him, fear rattling his voice. “Don’t do that to her.” But he can see that you’re almost gone - your body is shaking and your legs are wrapping around Saeran’s waist and pulling him closer and your gasps and moans are coming faster, growing unintelligible as Saeran encourages you.

 _“That’s right,”_ he murmurs, lips back at your neck to mark you further. _“Come for me, princess.”_ As he works at your neck you turn your head to the side, and despite the shadows falling over your face Seven almost thinks you’re looking straight at him through the camera. His stomach churns at the next words out of Saeran’s mouth.

_“Show Luciel that I’m giving you so much more pleasure than he ever could.”_

Confusion crosses your features for the briefest moment before it’s gone, lost beneath the wave of pleasure that crests over you as your orgasm hits. Your eyes squeeze shut, your back arching off the wall to press your chest against Saeran’s as your whole body convulses with pleasure, and Seven shakes his head in shame as he realizes that Saeran is right. He would never have been able to have you like this, even if Saeran hadn’t kidnapped you. He would never have been able to touch you like this, please you like this, give you the love you so craved from him. The two of you never could have been anything more than two strangers talking in a chatroom.

He knows that despite the pleasure you’re receiving, the situation Saeran offers you is objectively worse than any he could have offered, but he still manages to feel inferior. How terrible was he, that you would choose bodily pleasures from a man who held you prisoner over casual acquaintance with him? 

_“He was watching?”_ Your voice startles Seven out of his thoughts, and his heart clenches in guilt. Not only had he sat by, watching uselessly as you were taken advantage of, but he had even contributed to your violation by watching you at your most vulnerable without your knowledge.

 _“Oh, I’m sure he was enraptured,”_ Saeran answers with a mocking laugh, and Seven hates knowing that he’s right. Saeran kisses your cheek as he continues, _“I certainly was.”_

Seven casts his gaze downward, looking away from the video feed again. He doesn’t want to see any more of this, doesn’t want to be enthralled in this sick trap any longer. His jaw clenches as he once more tries to reconcile the memory of his twin brother with the villain who had caught the two of you up in this web. When they were little, he had told Saeran that the two of them were one and the same - pieces of each other, parts of one whole. As much as it sickens him to think of what Saeran has become, he knows in his soul that they are still the same person.

Pathetic as Seven may be, if he is still sane, then maybe there is hope for Saeran to come back to sanity too.

You gasp and whine, and Seven resists the urge to check the screen. His fingers return to the keyboard.

 _“I’m not going far, princess,”_ Saeran assures, and Seven feels a bit of calm return to him with the knowledge that Saeran has removed himself from you. Seven’s fingers tap away at the keys, trying again to perform any command that will interrupt the video feed and allow him to return to work searching for the location where Saeran has hidden you. He refuses to check the screen for results, but gauges that his actions still aren’t working by the fact that he can still hear the rustling sounds from the video.

 _“Are you ready to perform our grand finale?”_ Saeran’s breathy voice asks, and Seven’s fingers freeze. He stares down at the dimly lit keyboard, forcing himself not to check the video. _“It will tear Luciel apart to watch me make you mine.”_ Seven sucks in a shuddering breath, holds it in. He squeezes his eyes shut to avoid looking.

 _“I’m already yours,”_ you reply, and Seven’s breath leaves him in a broken sob. _“Take me.”_

 _“Oh, what a good girl I have.”_ Saeran’s voice is so sweet that Seven almost believes this is a genuine expression of affection, and not just a disgusting show of power. Then you cry out in pleasure, and Seven doesn’t need to check the video to know that Saeran is inside of you. Seven's sobs come freely now, tears streaming unbidden down his cheeks. He has no more will to hold back his sorrow.

Seven curls in on himself as the sounds of Saeran fucking you fill the dark, empty apartment. He buries his face in his knees as he hugs them to his chest, glasses tossed to the floor, openly sobbing into his jeans. Your moans mute out every other noise to Seven’s ears, even those of his own cries, his own shuddering gasps for breath. Saeran is singing praises of how good you feel, and Seven is hyperventilating again, fists balling in his his hair and pulling painfully hard as you return Saeran’s sentiments, moaning Saeran’s name over and over and over, as if it’s the only word you can form, just as the only word Seven can form is, “No, no, no, _no!_ ”

And then Seven can’t help it, because you sound so delirious with pleasure, and Saeran’s moans are almost on par with yours, and Seven _needs_ to look at the screen, needs to prove to himself that you are still a hostage, and that this is still a tragedy. What he sees, however, when he peeks at the screen from between his knees, grabbing blindly at the floor for his glasses before finding and returning them, can be described as nothing short of intimate. Your arms are still bound above your head, but you hardly seem to notice, nonetheless mind. You’re in Saeran’s lap, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands grasping at your hips, as the two of you grind against each other in near perfect sync. Your foreheads are pressed together, lips meeting for brief kisses between moans and grunts and gasps, a look of complete and total adoration on your face, and blissed out delight on Saeran’s.

Seven lashes out at his laptop, slamming it shut, unable to take any more.

The sounds don’t stop. The light from the video feed still filters out from the slit between the screen and the keyboard.

“God damnit!” Seven swears, slamming his fists against the flooring, and before he knows it he’s crumpling to the floor himself, falling to the side and curling tighter into the ball he’s formed. “God..!” he repeats again, pleading this time, voice high and strained from his panic. “I’m sorry, God,” he sobs into the darkness, shaking in his struggle to breathe. “Whatever I did… to condemn Saeran to this hellish existence… to condemn her to be his victim… Dear God, please…”

 _“Please,”_ your voice whines, and Seven lets out a broken, humorless laugh at the surely unintended echo.

“Please, God… forgive them… Punish me and only me…” Seven’s fingers clutch at his chest, at the cross he wears around his neck. His eyes sting, empty now of all the tears he’d shed, though his breaths still struggle to cut through the sobs that wrack his body. “I know I’ve done things… to deserve this punishment… But please, God, leave them out of it…”

Then you’re crying out in what Seven can tell is orgasmic bliss, and Saeran follows soon after with a keening moan that makes Seven retch. He swallows down his nausea, waits for his breathing to settle enough for him to speak somewhat properly, then continues his prayer.

“Please, God, don’t let him hurt her. If she must be his, in the state he’s in… let her watch over him.” It pains him to say it, because he had wanted you to be his so badly, had known you wanted him as well, but he knows things never could have worked out that way. You had said yourself that you already belonged to Saeran. Seven would still search for you as soon as he had control of his computer returned to him, would still do everything he could to rescue you, and Saeran as well, but his heart had to let you go.

 _“Saeran,”_ you groan, and Seven shakes his head, not letting himself get distracted. He pushes himself back up to a sitting position, folding his hands in his lap, and bowing his head. 

“If she must be his, then let her kindness touch him before the darkness that’s tainted him spreads to her. Until I can help them, let them help each other. Let them heal each other… Amen.”

 _“One day I’ll eat your pretty little cunt,”_ Saeran says, and Seven doubles over, dry heaving once more. _“I used to think of that as foreplay, but it looks like the fruit will be even more juicy if I fuck you first.”_

The most morbid part of Seven’s brain wonders if Saeran came inside of you, and the thought has Seven heaving again. He almost wishes he had something in his stomach _to_ throw up, if only for the relief it would bring.

 _“Saeran,”_ you whine, sounding pained, and Seven’s eyes flicker anxiously to his closed laptop. He flips it open in time to see you tugging your wrists against your bonds. _“My arms… they hurt so much.”_

 _“I’m sorry, princess,”_ Saeran coos the apology, and from what Seven can see of his face through the shadows, he appears genuinely remorseful. He shuffles out from underneath you, pulling a pocket knife out from his half pulled-down pants as he continues, _“I didn’t want to hurt you, but it was necessary. Sometimes we must make sacrifices to preserve our paradise… but I hardly think you’re a flight risk now.”_

You roll your shoulders and massage your wrists once Saeran has cut you free, working the tension from your limbs as Saeran tucks himself back into his pants. Seven is thankful to see you no longer bound, though he’s disappointed that you don’t bolt as soon as you’re freed. A small part of him had hoped you were just playing along with Saeran’s game, doing what you needed to do and saying what you needed to say to stay alive until the time was right. But instead of running you’re inching forward, walking towards Saeran on your knees. Seven can see that Saeran is watching you carefully, knife still in hand, but all you do when you reach him is wrap your arms around his chest and nuzzle your face against his neck.

Seven’s heart clenches in his chest, an ache he couldn’t have imagined before you walked into and out of his life. 

But as Saeran relaxes against you and returns your embrace, mumbling something Seven can’t distinguish into your hair, Seven is actually relieved. As much as it hurts to see you embrace another man, it gives him hope. Hope for you, hope for Saeran, hope that God had heard his prayer, and was indeed going to use you to guide Saeran back to the light. 

_“...are you, princess?”_ Seven just manages to catch the end of Saeran’s words when he looks into the camera, and Seven leans in closer to the laptop to hear your reply.

 _“No, Saeran,”_ you say, looking up at Searan with adoring eyes, and _God_ even as hopeful as Seven wants to be, that sight still sends a jolt of pain through his chest. _“Why would I want to leave paradise?”_

Saeran laughs lightly in response, petting your hair before disengaging from the hug. He sets his hands on your shoulders, holding you at arms length and looking you up and down. Your blouse is still unbuttoned, bra still rucked up above your breasts. Seven can’t help but wince at the sight - he doesn’t even have breasts to put in his bras, but he knows the discomfort you must be in.

 _“Now then, my good girl, get yourself dressed,”_ Saeran starts, standing and turning away from the camera to point at something in the shadows. _“If you go out that door and take a left, the third door on your right will be a bathroom. Go clean yourself up while I’m saying goodbye to Luciel, then come straight back to me, okay?”_

Seven swallows thickly, anxiety returning as he wonders what Saeran intends to tell him as a farewell that he doesn’t want you to hear. You nod, standing to adjust and clasp your bra before buttoning your blouse, collecting your panties from the floor on your way out of the room. Seven prays again for you to run now that you have the chance, but Saeran is closing in on the camera, and Seven knows he needs to give this his full attention. 

Saeran picks up the camera, holding it out in front of him and grinning into the lens. _“So, Luciel? Did you enjoy the show?”_ He pauses, as if waiting for an answer, then lets out a manic laugh. _“Don’t worry, I can’t hear you. I’m sure you did, though. You got to see the girl who’s so special to you being touched and pleasured in so many ways! And I see now why she’s so special to you.”_ Saeran turns serious, nodding thoughtfully. _“So obedient. So eager to please. So eager to belong~”_ He laughs again before shaking his head, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. _“I guess the RFA didn’t make her feel like she belonged. What a pity - for you, anyway.”_ Seven bites at the inside of his cheek, feeling ashamed. Saeran isn’t far off. You hadn’t really clicked with anyone in the RFA besides him, had you? And look how he had treated you.

 _“Oh! Speaking of the RFA…”_ Saeran’s grin turns malicious, and Seven feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end. _“Your little group is done for. While you were enjoying our performance, my programs were busy decoding the algorithms you used on your precious confidential records.”_ Seven’s eyes widened, gaze flying to Rika’s old computer - the monitor was off so he hadn’t noticed, but now that he was looking for it he clearly saw the flashing green light that meant the modem was on and running. _“I got onto the apartment’s wifi through your laptop once you were distracted with the photos, and turned the desktop on remotely. All I needed was a lengthy way to keep your attention while all the files I needed were being extracted.”_

“Shit!” Seven swears, jumping up from his seat on the floor and running over to the desktop. Saeran’s laugh echoes through the room via his laptop's speakers.

 _“You’re checking the computer now, aren’t you?”_ he asks. Seven powers up the monitor to find an error message displayed across the screen, informing him that the computer is unable to boot up. _“It’s too late, Luciel. I wouldn’t have told you if I hadn’t already taken everything I needed, and rendered the computer unusable on my way out.”_

His first instinct is to call V, tell him what had happened, and wait for his guidance, but then he remembers that V can no longer be trusted. V was supposed to be watching over Saeran, yet somehow Saeran had managed to grow into _this_. "Damnit!" Seven shouts, defeated, before slinking back to his spot on the floor and staring at his brother’s face on the laptop screen with listless eyes.

 _“I hope the show was worth it,”_ Saeran murmurs, his own eyes growing cold. He seems contemplative for a moment, before he speaks again. _“You know, when we were little, you would always tell me not to worry about anything.”_ Saeran’s voice almost sounds sad, and Seven’s heart aches for him - not the man he sees on the screen, but the child he used to be. _“You would promise me I wouldn’t need to worry, because you would take care of everything. You would earn money, you would get us away from mom, you would keep me safe... you would make everything okay. And look at what lies those were.”_ Saeran’s twisted grin returns, his eyes lighting up with glee. _“Now, I’m returning the favor.”_

Just then, Seven hears the door open behind Saeran, and Saeran turns to see you returning to the room. _“Ah, my princess returns to me,”_ Saeran praises you in the same sweet voice he had used earlier, and Seven mourns again that you haven’t run away. _“I was just finishing up. Come here and get your reward for listening so well, my good girl.”_ As you approach, Saeran reaches out a hand towards you, cradling your jaw and tilting your head back so that he can lean down to capture your lips in a kiss when you’re close enough. Seven’s stomach twists in knots, anxiety prickling at his skin as he waits for Saeran to finish what he’d been saying. When the two of you part lips, Saeran smirks at the camera in a way that tells Seven he knows exactly how affected Seven is.

 _“So, as I was saying…”_ Saeran drawls, still using the sugary sweet tone he had used on you. _“You don’t need to worry about a thing, Luciel. I’ll take good care of her for you.”_

The grin Saeran flashes the camera before the video feed cuts out is nothing shy of predatory.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! This sequel was so requested, and all of your encouragement and compliments really fueled my fire to write it, so I hope it lived up to everyone's expectations! If you did enjoy it, please leave a comment and let me know! Or, if it broke your heart, let me know that too~ ;)
> 
>  **EDIT 3/29/2019** This series originally had a third part, that has now been deleted. I never really intended to continue it past these two segments, and only did so because it received so much positive feedback. However, I have a number of other multi-chapter fics I'm planning, which I'm much more passionate about than this universe, and a lot of what was originally planned for this series is actually going to be re-purposed into other fics. I _may_ write a few more pieces set in this universe eventually, but they'll all be smutty one-shots that could also be read solo. For now, this is where this series ends. I'm really, really sorry to those of you who did look forward to seeing this series continue. I hope you all continue to support my future works! ♥


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